The bell sitting atop the jamb rang as the entrance door swung open and then slowly closed. An older man carrying an e-reader walked in, sat at the counter. He looked at the waitress behind the counter, refilling another customer's mug. "Hey Stevey, gimme a sec will ya hon'?" the waitress said, without looking at the man.

The man sat down, clicked on his little device and started reading the paper.

After a moment, the waitress walked over, flipped the mug that was sitting face down on the counter on the man's placemat, and smiled at him. "The usual?" she asked.

"The usual sounds good," he replied with a smile.
​

DING, a new ticket came into the kitchen.

"TWO EGGS OVER EASY, THREE BACON, ONE PANCAKE, ONE WHOLE WHEAT TOAST!"

"Heard," the cook said, using his oversized spatula to chop up hash browns. With his free hand he grabbed two eggs from a clear plastic container next to the griddle, cracked both in one coordinated movement between his fingers and they sizzled as they hit the steel.

DING, another ticket.

"THREE-EGG OMELET, CHEDDAR, MUSHROOMS, SIDE OF HASH!"

"Heard," as three eggs sizzled. Pancake batter drooped down from a dispenser, glooped into a circle.

DING.

"SLOPPY JOE, HALF AND HALF LIGHT ON SLAW. HEAVY SALT ON SPUDS."

"Heard," bacon sizzled, eggs scooped and plated, toast burned then pushed off into a garbage can, a new piece of bread hit the hot top. Damn near half the griddle is a mass of hash browns cooking up, getting mixed around every few seconds between other tasks. Cling cling, the spatula hits the griddle over and over, cling cling.

DING.

"TWO EGGS SUNNY, TWO PANCAKES, TWO TURKEY SAUSAGE!"

"HEARD," cling clang cling gloorp.

DING.

"WESTERN OMELET, SIDE OF HASH!"

"HEARD," tsskkk cling cling.

DING.

"TALL STACK WITH CHOCOLATE CHIP, THREE BACON."

"HEARD," blooorp blooorp blooorp ssszzzzz.

"THREE EGGS SCRAMBLE, CANADA BACON, WHITE TOAST NO BUTTER!"

"HEARD," crack szzzzz flop.

The cook finished off three more plates then looked at the clock. "Hey, Diego take over, I'm on my fifteen." He dropped his spatula into a slot in front of the griddle, took off his apron and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Another cook rotated over, grabbed the spatula and started mixing around the hash browns.

The cook went through the staff door and lit his cigarette. He breathed in deep and held his breath before he exhaled.

The sun hung low in the morning, hidden behind some clouds. The cook thought of his mother as he searched for the sun in the sky.

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